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Wednesday, about 2 o’clock……

She is acting not very lady like. She is no longer the pushy prudish boss who has so recently entered her employee’s house. Now, this is animal lust. Primitive responses. Breasts jerking up and down in unison as Frank thrusts into her. A lack of subtlety to his efforts. Ellen does a little screaming as each successive race of pleasure shoots through her body. Harder!! Faster!! Gonna be scratch marks on his ass in the morning from Ellen crushing him and his cock against herself. Nobody set a clock, but this all takes a while. But all good things must come to an end. He agrees when her less than subtle, “cum in me!!!” calls for it. The couch is going to need a fucking good cleaning, later. And Mrs. Quick will never be the same.

A dispassionate appraisal of the sex act might conclude that this is a pretty weird, and often overly complicated, activity for two people to engage in, and if it wasn’t so darn much fun, nobody would bother. But wow, mother nature makes it so darn much fun…

Somewhere else in town…

The worst tavern in a bad neighborhood……A loud, boorish, well lubricated guy perched near the end of the bar is holding court as per usual. He is, of course, an expert on women. Just ask…

“A man will lie to get a woman into his bed; a woman will get a man into her bed SO she can lie to him! There are two kinds of men that can interest a woman. The one she actually wants to fuck looks hot, and has all the right attitude, and is likely to be a rogue. The other man she will fuck because she is supposed to, or needs to, to keep him happy and around. This man will work for her, reliably support her, protect her, and help rear her children, which may well be the children left behind by the rogue.”

Another guy sitting at the bar shouts back, “Hey Jack! Who is your wife fucking right now while you are out getting drunk in a dive bar?”

Some time earlier….

A modern four story professional building on the edge of downtown, housing the office of Dr. Rich Caslick….

The easy chair is covered in dark leather, with an over stuffed seat cushion that bulges in its center. Very comfortable. Tilts just a bit toward the back, for comfort. It is the kind of chair than can suck you in and make it so difficult to get back out, mostly thanks to this tilt and this cushion. The chair faces the back side of a wood desk set about 5 feet away. Both occupy one end of a rectangular room, while the other end of the room is concealed by a large Navajo colored drape. The long window overlooks part of the city with the mountains behind. Morning sun pours in. The background music is subdued and relaxing. The incense scented air also seems soothing. On the wall above and behind the desk a flat screen TV sits in silence.

Kathy has just settled in the chair, and notes the sensation that it is in fact sucking her in. Comfortable, except that the skin on the back of her legs sticks to the leather, so some gymnastics will be needed to get out of the chair. She will need to lift her legs, which she plans to do. This could turn her short skirt into a nice show for somebody.

Dr. Rich Caslick hands her wine glass to her, half full this time. She reaches around to set it on the end table to her left. As she turns back she cannot ignore that he is undressing her with his eyes, as he stands over her. Good. She feels the warmth building inside.

Kathy is easy to look at. She doesn’t have movie star beauty, but more the girl next door version. At age 24 she is athletically lean, medium height, blue eyes and natural blonde, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail that makes her look younger. Her natural response to her current anxious state is an entrancing smile.

She is wearing a long sleeve white blouse and a brown skirt, short, revealing tan, shapely, muscular legs, and some version of slip-on shoes. That seat cushion that traps her deep in the chair also tends to part her legs, rolling her knees to the side. Rich is looking directly

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